Waked whispers shivering in the folds of oblivion, limbs restless against sycamore knots, the solid ground crushed beneath the weight of unspoken truths.
A lost rhyme embedded within the skin; the caress of shadow stitching realms, once filled with orange sunsets, now parched amid silver skies.
Concepts suffused, twirling amidst iridescent wavelengths, a consciousness splintering like brittle glass, reflection devoid of skin for the soul serpent to slide.
The thin thread of fate checks silence against deafening screams: ask not the things kept between spaces, befriend the moments lived suspended in gelatin dreams.
Murmurs unravel inked thoughts on parchment of vapor, summoned from void to seams of this narrative tapestry—do not seek the answers beneath faded sepia tones.
The cigarettes burnt—the water-gate breathes, chaos caged in concentric chambers of paradox. Transmute body into liquid clockwork, of time cracked open!
Shadows leap and limp beside deserted pathways, whispering dreams into the soft soil, where forgotten rubies hum beneath silken straight jackets.
Contemplate these portals: